


Puts Things Into Perspective

by afteriwake



Series: Love Is Like [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Molly overhears Sherlock in a dangerous situation and she demands specifics on the situation from his brother, she realizes life is too short to not tell Sherlock exactly how she feels about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puts Things Into Perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagsyB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagsyB/gifts).



> And yay, I finally get to have them declare how they truly feel about each other! ::dances:: I had a lot of fun writing this. And, BTW, this is just a taste of the inevitable interaction Molly and Mycroft are going to have about him controlling her social life. He's afraid. He's very afraid.

Christmas was only two days away and she knew that no matter what gifts Sherlock had gotten her for the holiday none would be as nice as the fact he didn’t mind sharing a bed with her. Not only that, he didn’t mind sleeping closely to her. The night she had tentatively suggested he spend the night Christmas Eve he had asked if he could stay over and she’d agreed. They’d run back to Baker Street to pick up a few things he would need, and then gone back to her flat. He’d started the night off spooning her and in the morning he’d stayed in bed, holding her close even though he’d been awake for a few hours by the time she woke up.

That had been three weeks ago and now most nights they were either at her place or at Baker Street. Sometimes it didn’t work out to where they could share a bed and she hadn’t been that fond of those evenings, she’d realized. She liked sharing a bed with him quite a bit. They hadn’t been officially dating long, but it seemed like the right time to at least consider offering to let him keep some things at her flat. She was at work and knew he was at Baker Street taking care of a few things there, so there would be time for him to gather things up and meet her at her flat to drop them off before they went out to dinner. She dialed his number and waited. He picked up after two rings. “Bit busy,” he said, and he sounded out of breath.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh…um…I was just going to suggest when you came over you bring more clothing than normal. I mean, bring some things you might want to…keep…at my home.”

There was a pause. “You mean like toiletries, clothing, things like that?” he asked, and she could hear John in the background telling Sherlock to keep moving.

“Well, yeah. I mean, or anything else you can think of.” There sounded like a muffled explosion in the background. “Sherlock?”

“Can’t talk. Bad time. But…tonight. Let’s meet at Baker Street. You bring things over to keep there. I may have to clear out room while you’re there, but—” There was a sound that almost sounded like gunshots and her eyes widened. “Be there at eight.” There was a click and then the call was disconnected.

She lowered her mobile and stared at it. After a moment she debated calling John’s phone but thought better of it, instead dialing a much lesser dialed number on her contacts list. She hadn’t particularly wanted to talk to him, mostly because the reason her social life had taken a nose dive was because of his interference, but this was an emergency. She hit send and then spoke the moment she heard a click. “Where the bloody hell is your brother right now, Mycroft?” she asked.

“Good afternoon to you too, Miss Hooper,” Mycroft said urbanely. “He’s at the docks. Scotland Yard is on the way. There are only three people—“ He paused. “Make that two people shooting at him and John Watson now.”

She gripped her phone tightly. “And how many were there to start?” she asked, aghast.

“My brother won’t want you to know,” Mycroft said.

“Tell me or I’ll track you down and vivisect you,” Molly said through grit teeth.

“Six,” he said quietly, a tinge of fear in his voice.

“Did _you_ send him and John on this…whatever it is he’s doing?” she asked, getting even angrier.

“I should by all means lie because I doubt the truth will make you any happier,” he said. “But yes. This has to do with an errand I needed him to run.”

“If anything happens to him, Mycroft, so help me I’ll make you regret it,” she said.

There was a pause. “What if something already happened?” he asked cautiously.

“How badly is he hurt?”

“”A bullet grazed his arm. It might require stitches, but he will require a new Belstaff for the holidays, if you can get one in two days. I can’t tell from the CCTV feed.

She shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Right now, Mycroft, just realize I am very put out with you.”

“Because you love him,” Mycroft said simply.

“Yes,” she replied, and then she opened her eyes widely as she realized what she’d said. “No!” She hadn’t wanted to admit it to Mycroft before she told it to Sherlock. Sherlock had deserved to know that she was madly, truly, deeply in love with him long before his brother did. “Damn it,” she muttered.

“I see it, when I see the two of you in public. It goes both ways, if you are not aware. If he has not told you. You have captured my brother’s heart. I think long before he actually had the nerve to properly court you.”

“And one day you and I will have words about how that was possible,” she said, though there was no anger behind it. She knew Sherlock cared greatly. But loved her? He couldn’t possibly love her. _I mean, he could,_ she thought to herself. _But did he really?_ “How are you so certain he loves me?”

“It’s in his actions, in the way he talks to Mummy and Father about you. The way he’s protective of you. The way he races to see you when you’re apart for too long for his taste. The way he wants to stay close when you’re together.” Mycroft paused. “No one is shooting at them anymore and Sherlock is being looked at. I’m sure you can see him shortly.”

“Good. We have things to talk about, I think.”

“Yes, I think you do.” Mycroft hung up then, and she lowered her mobile, trying to get back to her work. Through Herculean effort she finished, then went back to her flat and packed a few things. She arrived at Baker Street early, and Sherlock wasn’t there, so she settled into the sitting room to wait.

He trudged up the stairs at seven forty-nine and spied her there. He didn’t have his coat, and she could see the bandage peeking out from the hole in his shirt. “Molly,” he said quietly, his eyes wide. She came up to him and framed his face in her hands, kissing him. After a moment he put his hands to her waist, pulling her close against him as he deepened the kiss. When they needed to breathe he pulled away, searching her face. “What was that for?”

“I thought a very nice welcoming kiss was in order,” she said, sliding her hands down to the collar of his shirt. “I imagine it’s been a rough day.”

“It has,” he said with a nod.

“I know what will make it better,” she replied.

“What?” he asked.

She gave him a soft smile. “I love you, Sherlock Holmes, with all my heart.”

He started at her for a moment, stunned, before a wide grin blossomed on his face and he pulled her in for a passionate kiss, one that left her breathless by the time they pulled apart. “I love you too, Molly Hooper,” he said quietly.

“Good,” she said softly. She rested her head on his chest and he held her close. If the worse happened now, at least he knew. She had told him how she truly felt, and perhaps soon she could show him. Perhaps soon they would get to that point.


End file.
